Cheese and Crackers...and Surrender

When I was 13, I ate almost only cheese and crackers for the entirety of a summer.  Just cheese and crackers.

Now significantly lactose intolerant, I find this bit of personal trivia a little ironic and somewhat hilarious though completely true. 

I ate cheese and crackers.  For breakfast and lunch.  And dinner if I had a choice.  I don’t remember complaining about sitting down to normal food with the family at dinner time so I must not have been a brat about it. I just remember eating a lot of cheese and lot of crackers. 

I was constantly making requests and my mother will attest to the sheer volume of block cheese and boxes of crackers – both bought in nearly every imaginable variety – she purchased on my behalf summer of 2001.  (This also makes me believe I wasn’t a brat about it – my mom never would have simply bought things because I demanded it.  Ever.)

It was the summer of a difficult move (and let’s be honest, any move at 13 is a difficult one – although this one was particularly unbolting for this particular teenager).  As near as I have been able to deduce and conclude in my time working though pieces of my past, this was very much some subconscious way for me to gain control over the world I felt was slipping.  It was a coping mechanism. 

When the summer ended and school started, I still brought and ate cheese and crackers for lunch most days.  But soon “cheese and crackers” faded.  Probably as I became super obsessed with homework and grades and the other things I know I held onto and fought for fiercely in the absence of other pursuits; pieces of my life I felt like I had control over.  Whatever I felt I had the most control over, I gripped onto the hardest.  Whatever pieces I felt the safest in or the pieces I felt defined me most I would kick and scream to keep in the midst of life spinning out of control...with other pieces slipping through my fingers.   

The funniest part now is looking back at my “cheese and crackers” and realizing the oddity of the choices I made.  Whether it be this appetizer turned meal or my educational endeavors or the fact I currently need my socks/underwear/t-shirts to be in some sort of matching agreement at any given time...or any of the other ‘control’ choices I’ve made...none of them have been of substantial value.  None of them were/are life giving choices.  You can’t hear me laugh but I am, in fact, releasing, a moment of maniacal laughter to consider how some of these pieces of life I held onto so vigorously just about did me in.  Some life!

My cheese and cracker memories came full circle for me this weekend...  You see, I was asked a few months ago to prepare a message to give during summer camp.  And, specifically, I was asked to speak on the topic of surrender.  To elementary students.  No easy task.  For high schoolers or college kids?  Sure! But 8-12 year olds?  How does one communicate the depth of surrender to student who just doesn’t cognitively process there yet?   

I’ve been working diligently but with little fruit and so I did what I’ve always done – I talked it over with my dad (a pastor).  I mentioned a couple ideas and then noted how one friend thought maybe I should take it from the angle that “surrender is actually about trust”.  My dad shook his head and made his scrunched “thoughtful but confused” eyebrows and lip curl.  “No...” he said slowly.  “That’s what I was thinking,” I said, unintentionally cutting my him off. “I mean, it is but it’s not.  Surrender, in my mind...”  Our voices found the same moment of air and our words came out in surprising unison: “...is about letting go.”  Surrender, in the essence of what it is, is about letting go...

With it came several thoughts for the message I intend to give over the course of the summer and the pieces and parts for what it might mean to communicate and challenge little folk towards “surrender”.  But it also came with some pieces and parts for me.  Surrender is a good topic for me.  Perhaps because my life has demanded so much of it...again and again and again.  I’m just not actually all that good at it.

Because, well, the thing about surrender – is letting go.  And it seems beneficial to note that the things being held on to aren’t really that sustaining or life giving. It is often just what we feel is “all we’ve got left” or, at the very least, the thing we feel we have control over.  “You may be able to destroy everything else, but at the end of the day I still had cheese and crackers for lunch!”  Well...good.for.me. 

But surrender isn’t about being forced into a situation where everything you have decided important is taken away.  And it’s not a “letting loose”.  Surrender is always voluntary and it is a full release.  True surrender...it’s a life thing.  A whole life thing. 

I think part of me has always felt I could have Jesus and my control issues too.  “I will go ahead and love Jesus and I will also have high anxiety when my socks don’t match my shirt. That is fine.”  I do in fact realize how ridiculous this sounds but it truly does cause me anxiety and I am well aware that I use it as a way to grasp hold of control.  It’s not that Jesus isn’t going to see me through my...deals.  I am just also realizing that for as long as I hold onto socks or cheese and crackers or any number of other things, I’ve made them my idols, more important than God.  And I am never actually trusting who Christ wishes to be in my life.  My number one.  My first thing.  And so I never let go. 

I have to surrender.  I have to let go.  See, I can surrender with trusting but I can’t trust without surrender.  Surrender so often comes with so much fear because there is no ability to trust that letting go won’t also cause one to fall.  Yet trust, within itself, is surrender.  Because trust says I can let go because it’s not about what I’m holding it’s about who has always been holding on to me...    

“My help and glory are in God – granite-strength and safe-harbor-God – So trust him absolutelyk people; lay your lives on the line for him.  God is a safe place to be.” (Psalm 62:7-8 – MSG)

 “That’s right, Because I, your God, have a firm grip on you and I’m not letting go...” (Isaiah 41:13a – MSG).

Over-Sexed and Under-Mature

As of last week, I am 24 years old.

And I? I have never had a boyfriend (not even the cheap 6^th grade version I will soon profile).

In fact, I have never been on a “date”.

And, if we’re being honest (which apparently I am again today), I have never even been asked out. 

I’m not actually that concerned.  I am at a place in my life where I believe if it is supposed to happen, it will. 

The only reason then to tell you this (because if I am not concerned, the story ends there) then is because apparently other people are.  And when I say other people mostly I’m referring to small people – young’ns.  I mean, I’m sure I have a couple aunts and aunt-ish people in my life who are troubled about my “hopeless” single status but they don’t raise too much of a ruckus.  If you want to see a ruckus, and even an absolute conniption, the piece of personal trivia needs to come up amongst individuals between the ages of 10 and 17 (either gender before 14, female 14-17).

Their ruckus, conniptions and protests scream that of the unacceptability of this fact.  I don’t bring it up alone but when it becomes mentioned? My, oh my...

Take today’s conversation I had with four 6^th grade boys.  Aged 11.  They were discussing, in detail, their “girlfriends”.  At 11, to listen to them describe the number and the “quality” was like listening to frat boys.  Each girl was a conquest.  As a fan of instilling truth whenever the opportunities arises, I decided to speak up as the cabin leader kept saying things like “guys, for real, you’re 11?  What do you need a girlfriend for?”  It was at the indignant answer “I don’t need one.  I want one.  A guys gotta have a girl on his arm, ya know?” followed by something along the lines of “a girl doesn’t HAVE a boyfriend, a boy HAS a girlfriend.  It’s all about the guy!” I had been mentioning respect.  Not treating women like objects.  Protecting themselves and these girls from feeling used and trashed.  Setting themselves to a higher standard.  Being men of character and integrity. 

Somewhere in the middle I was interrupted.

“Man!  She be talking like she didn’t have like twelve boyfriends when she was our age!”

“I didn’t...”

“You be serious?  She just be playing with us!  What then?  How many boyfriends you had since you was our age?”

“None...”

“What!  Now she just be lying.  No girl be your age and not never had no boyfriend!  So what you just be dating all the time and never actually call the brother your boyfriend?”

“Nope...I’ve never been on a date.”

“Never??”

“Nope.”

“Shut up!” 

“We don’t say shut up...”

“Maaann!  You’re not even serious!  You’re just making stuff up so you can be telling us stuff!  And if you be serious, you gonna die old and alone!”

After my fate was sealed by this ever so alarmed 6^th grader, I was reminded of the conversation I had with some high school girls last summer (although similar conversations have come up in-between) where in their “girl talk” drama of this boy and that I tried to communicate truth (much more directly – I was in a Christian setting) about purity (emotional and spiritual as well as physical) and mentioned the fact I had never had a boyfriend in hopes of being encouraging.  As a “life isn’t going to come to end without one” statement.  They caught my reference but were indignant and sorrowful.  They pitied me.  “Really, Anika?  That’s awful!  Why not?  Why wouldn’t a boy want to date you?  You’re great!”  I tried to explain that I didn’t need to be encouraged and their response was just the point.  To not have a boyfriend or a boy want me?  I must be drying inside!  What an awful life!  They couldn’t picture a world where a boyfriend, or the pursuit of one, wasn’t their center. 

Let’s face it; I may not be incredibly in touch with the media... (Even if I had the time, the last thing I really want and need in my life is the trash it brings.) but I’m not that out of touch.  I know the messages it sends to our under age but over-sexed up and coming generations.  And I know as a culture the pressure to date, to be attached and to find significance, status, power, and acceptance in the eyes, arms, and label of a “significant other” is massive. 

Justin Bieber’s hit “Baby” after all recounts the profound recollection that when he “was 13” he “had his first love...”  No.  Not love.  What he really had was a rushing surge of out of control hormones that we’ve convinced our teenagers they can certainly control and determine for themselves must definitely be love (*cough* infatuation).  And they must act on these heartbreaking and gut wrenching decisions – “could the next two weeks (if we’re lucky and REALLY in love) be the best weeks of my whole 12-year old life if I just tell him yes?  Or will he make me cry when he turns me in for the next model?  And is that okay if the next two weeks are 6^th grade bliss?” 

A previous school at my place of work had to cancel their square dance recently.  Weeks before coming to camp.  A group of these 5^th graders had made posters advertising themselves as the “Sexy Six” and any boy worth their gym shorts would have to fight for a square dance date with one of these elementary hotties. A girl didn’t come to school for days because of the teasing she received.  These kids are like 10.  Really?  Really???  And if one more girl puts up her hair before putting on her plaid shirt stating “this is the night I’ll dance with the love of my life!”  on a Thursday evening, I might just pummel her to the ground and scrub off her dripping bright green mascara.  “Sexy” was still a “bad word” when I was 10! 

Gag me with another wooden spoon at the next self-shot profile picture of 13 and 14 year olds making out with their boyfriends/girlfriends – “because you hold hands with your girlfriend when you’re in like 3^rd grade!” (I was informed recently).  Clearly acceptable. [Where are these children’s (yes, I said child!  They are!!! When did this change??)  parents?  Are they feeding the messages or does their “meh” approach of indifference only further perpetuate the growing cycle?].  

These babies, whose mom’s are still doing their wash and writing their names in their boxer shorts or delicately folding their training bras, have already sold themselves into some terrible buy and sell market of social acceptability where to be somebody you must have somebody.  Where they will forever convince themselves that to claim acceptance at all costs and to minimize cultural rejection regardless, they must propel themselves into any relationship that will take them.  Anyone with a brain sees the danger in that... 

What’s the solution?  Since ripping children away from media is a near literally impossibility...the only real option is sending a different message.  But do we?  Are we?  Do we really try?  Do we affirm and accept and encourage in a way as to allow these pre-pubescent teen wannabies to figure themselves out in their own skin without needing a “boyfriend” or “girlfriend” to define them?  Do we speak truth and instill wisdom?  Do we teach our girls they’re not property or arm candy?  That they have worth far outside looks and clothes?  Do we teach our boys that leadership and masculinity come in integrity?  That girls aren’t a conquest?  That respect is earned? 

Or are we just as much part of the problem...either communicating the same message directly or through quiet indifference?  Do we really care?  Do we really try?  Do we?  Should we?